Tonight
by Crysania
Summary: The original prompter for Not Tonight asked for a sequel. You may want to read that fic first!


It's been seven months and three days since Emma came to town and woke Rumplestiltskin up. It's been six months three weeks and one day since he married Belle…no _Lily_…French. Emma has not gotten much closer to breaking the curse and Lily, though she seems to believe she loves him, is still cursed.

She's less of a wallflower now, though she still can't handle large crowds. They go out on the town and visit quiet places. The library, the park, the docks. Granny's Diner is as crowded a place that she can handle, so they go there on occasion.

They're not always the talk of town these days. People have gotten used to seeing the reclusive pawnbroker and his even more reclusive wife around town. Henry, Regina's adopted son who has turned out to be Emma's biological child, is as avid a reader as Belle and so takes the quiet woman under his wing.

It's sometimes amusing seeing the two of them together. Henry is so earnest, so talkative, so like the Belle he grew to love at the Dark Castle. This Lily French is quiet and attentive. She loves books like Belle did, could get lost in tales of adventure like Belle did, but she's less animated about it all.

She's less animated all together. She's less brave. But she's becoming more so. He watches her almost constantly when they're together and he can see her coming further and further out of the shell the curse has placed her in. The curse is weakening and with it comes more of Belle's personality. Lily is not being shunted to the side, not exactly, but the gleam in her eyes is becoming more Belle and less Lily.

Yet still, she does not know who she is. She does not know who _he_ is, and that is perhaps what keeps him away more than anything else.

Every night, still, he walks her to her door. She looks at him with expectation in her eyes, puts her hand on his arm.

"Yes, my dear?" He cannot call her sweetheart. It's the name he's called Belle in his head for as long as he can remember. Lily is not _sweetheart_. She's not allowed that intimacy. He needs to keep that sort of distance between them.

"Tonight?" she asks and he nearly cringes at how hopeful she sounds. It's a strange perversion of the first six months of their marriage, when she spurned him at every chance. He had never asked. No, he would not do that to his Belle, but she had been clear in her rejection of him nonetheless.

He pats her hand gently and watches her face fall. "No, dear. I think I'll just turn in." And he leaves her at the door as he has done for as long as they've been together in this world. It's his choice now. He could turn, tell her to wait, enter her sacred domain and make her his.

But he won't. Lily French is not Belle and that's all there is to it. He won't make love to Belle's body without making love to Belle's mind. She would never forgive him. _He_ would never forgive himself. And so he turns with a sigh and retreats to his own bedroom as he always does. Another night of interrupted sleep and loneliness.

* * *

Another week passes in much the same way. Emma is no closer to breaking the curse and Lily is no closer to becoming Belle. Gold is tempted to push things forward. He's been picking at Emma, little by little, attempting to wear her down but she's a tough nut to crack. She refuses to believe. Simply _refuses_. He remembers putting that drop of potion on the curse, building her into it. There are times, as he impatiently waits for her to finally realize the truth, that he wishes he could have found someone else.

But it _had_ to be the product of true love.

Maybe if…No…It wasn't worth thinking about _those_ possibilities.

"I met Emma today," she says one evening as they're sitting down to dinner. She's been going out on her own during the day some. Not too much. She can't handle too much. It tends to make her shut down, shake a bit, and run for cover. This version of Belle is still quite skittish.

"Did you now?" He tries for as noncommittal an answer as he can give.

She nods as she spears a green bean and brings it to her mouth. "She seemed…interesting."

He cocks his head to the side. "Interesting?"

"There was something…I don't know. I felt like I knew her somehow." Emma was a newborn when the curse took them all to this land, froze them in time for 28 years. Her recognition of the savior was surprising, but then again perhaps it spoke to her special connection with _him_, the connection she didn't quite realize yet.

_The one you thought would break her curse by a simple brushing of lips together_.

"I've heard that before," he says instead, somewhat cagey about the whole thing.

"From?" Her eyes are curious as they meet his and he finds he's missed her curiosity. Lily French tended to simply accept things as they were. Belle questioned. It was one of the things the curse stripped her of. Yet here it was, coming back. He smiles at that.

"A few people, actually. I hear things, you know." He doesn't talk to people unless there's a deal to be made, but he's always listening.

"Of course," she replies with and as she leans forward there's just a little gleam in her eyes, that sort of conspiratorial look that he remembers well from their time together in the Dark Castle. "You're always listening."

"I am." And he cannot keep the pride from his voice. "So what did you think of the esteemed Miss Swan?"

Here she shrugs and the gleam disappears slightly. He wants to do something, _anything_, to bring it back, to see Belle in Lily. But she's retreating behind the mask of the curse faster than he can do anything to stop it. "She seemed nice enough I suppose. The mayor doesn't like her."

"The mayor doesn't like anyone," he points out. The mayor especially doesn't like anyone who is close to him, which means the mayor does not like Lily French. And Lily French clearly finds this confusing.

Belle would understand. She would remember meeting her on the road, would remember what her actions had caused.

"Emma's leaving town." He feels like something has punched him in the gut. If Emma leaves…well, if she leaves the curse will never be broken and he will never find his son and he will never have Belle back.

"Leaving?" He tries to sound nonchalant but the look she gives him is suspicious.

"Yeah. I heard her talking to someone at the diner." He raises his eyebrows. She never goes to the diner alone. "I stopped in to get a tea to go," she says by way of explanation.

"Ah," he says and nods. "Good. I'm glad you could do that." And he is. It's more of Belle's bravery coming through.

She smiles then and he feels relieved. She doesn't understand Emma's importance. She can't understand it. But she will. If Emma ever gets around to breaking the damned curse. She's as hard-headed as her mother and as dense as her father, it seems.

They fall into silence for a minute and then he finally manages to speak. "Did Emma say why she was leaving?"

She frowns in response and then shakes her head.

"I see." He doesn't know what else to say. He's going to have to track the savior down, hope something changes, get her to stay, to _see_. He can't keep going this way, half living, with Belle only half here.

There is silence for several moments before she speaks again. "Why is Emma important?"

He almost chokes on the bite of food he had taken. Leave it to Belle to still be so perceptive, even in this cursed town. He sets his fork down carefully. "Emma has promised to do something for me. For this _town_. It will impact everyon."

She cocks her head to the side. "What is it?"

"I can't say," he quickly responds with.

"More secrets?" And she sounds disappointed.

He gives her one long, sad look. "You will understand soon enough. I just…I can't say right now."

The rest of the meal passes in an uncomfortable silence and when it comes time for bed, she simply retreats to her room without another word. He breathes a small sigh of relief, even though he's frustrated with it all. At least he won't have to turn her down this night.

* * *

It's been nearly eight months since Rumplestiltskin woke up and retreated behind the mask of Mr. Gold. Eight long damned months, most of which he's spent married to Lily French and barely touching her, going no further than holding her hands, a soft kiss pressed to the back of her hand. He wants her. There is no doubt about that. But he wants _Belle_, not Lily, and though she is becoming more and more Belle, she is still _not Belle_.

Each night he walks her to bed. Each night he watches a strange look pass across her face, a bit of longing, a bit of disappointment, a bit of confusion. Each night he hopes the brief kiss he gives her will break her curse, though he knows that one is really up to Emma. He had thought that perhaps the power of their love could do it, but no. The curse had to be broken by the savior and that was neither he nor Belle.

But he cannot stop the hope. Which is surprising, really. He's spent most of his life with no hope. When his son was going to be dragged off to war and he couldn't protect him, when he lost his son down a portal and could not find a way back to him, when he lost that one last magic bean to his former wife's greed and his own lack of control. Hope has not been a part of him for a great long while.

But as the curse comes close to breaking, he feels that tiny bit of hope breaking through. He could get Belle back. And he could find his son.

He's in his pawnshop when Emma and Regina storm in. Lily sits in the back reading, quiet, out of the way as she prefers to be. She's been coming with him to work more these days and he's thankful for the little spark that keeps her close. He's even more thankful she's in the back as he catches the look in Emma's eyes.

She believes.

It's written in every line of her body, in the way she moves through his shop. It's also written in the rather frantic look the Evil Queen wears. Something has happened. And that something has made Emma believe and made the Queen run scared.

He smiles as they approach and offers up her father's sword. She still has much to do, though she won't realize it's more for _him_ and his quest than it is for her own. Get the potion, break the curse, and then life begins anew. Everyone will wake up and the Queen, who stands at her side and glares at her archenemy, will be doomed.

That is, if the newly awakened Snow White and Prince Charming dare actually _do_ something. So far they've been ineffectual at best, which ultimately has served his own needs rather well.

"What was that?"

He turns and sees Lily stepping out of the back, book still in hand. It's all so close he can practically taste it. Emma believes. The curse will soon break. And with it he will regain Belle. A small shiver of trepidation goes through him. It is something he has wanted, wanted desperately since he woke up and realized she was here in this cursed little town. But what if with her awakening and the return of her true memories, comes hatred, anger? She will not only remember the good times, after all. She will remember how things ended between them.

And that scares him.

Sometimes he dreams of simply giving himself over to Lily French and forgetting about the curse and chasing Emma out of town himself and living in this insular little world with his wife who is only partially the woman he loves so intensely.

But then he remembers Belle, the _real_ Belle, and his son, his precious Baelfire. And he cannot give himself to the curse. This was all done with a purpose and as tempting as losing himself entirely is, in being someone else, he needs to be done with it.

"_That_ was Emma Swan." He sounds smug as he says her name. Lily simply cocks her head and waits. "She is about to do what I need her to do."

"And that is?" She says the words with a bit of challenge in her voice. He loves her curiosity, but he cannot indulge it this time.

"I can't tell you." She starts to speak, starts to protest and he can see the anger lurking in her eyes. He steps closer to her, reaches out to clasp her hands in his. "Not yet." She doesn't speak and he knows, just _knows_, that she is upset over all the obfuscation. He hasn't lied to her, not yet, hopefully not at all, but the truth would make little sense.

She clasps his hands, harder than usual. "Will you tell me?"

"Soon," he promises, squeezes her hands, and releases them. "I must do something now."

"Involving Emma." The words are a statement. She knows.

"To some degree," he says with a slight shrug. "She's retrieving something for me."

"She doesn't know that."

He cannot help but smile at the certainty behind her words. She's right, of course. Emma doesn't know she's retrieving his true love potion. She doesn't know she's about to help him bring magic to a land without it. "No she doesn't, which is why I must go get it from her."

"Steal it."

He gives a snort of laughter. She always was too smart, his Belle. "Yes. But for a greater good." He hopes she'll forgive that much at least.

She gives him an assessing look. "Well, if it's for the greater good." Her eyes are still narrowed slightly as he pulls her hands to his mouth and kisses them.

"I won't be long." He wants to tell her to wait in the shop, to not go out, that it could be dangerous. But he knows that's the fear talking. If their memories return and she is alone, she may disappear. He may never see her again, except from afar. But if she's with him, if he can get back to her in time, if she stays put and he knows where to find her, he may get to see her awaken. He might get to see her remember him for just one moment, might see the joy for a brief second before it the truth of it all returns to her and she looks upon him with loathing and hatred. He needs that moment. He doesn't know how he'll live when she frees herself from his life and this farce of a marriage unless he manages to have that one moment.

He slips out then, leaving her alone in the shop, the merry jingle of the bells echoing in his ears as he makes his way to the library to retrieve the potion from Emma Swan.

* * *

"What is it?" she asks as he returns with the gold filigree egg.

He holds it up in front of him and he's not sure how to answer her question. From the outside it's nothing more than decoration and he can see the skeptical look in her eyes. _This is what you so desperately needed?_ But the inside. That's where the important stuff was. So like humans in that way. The heart of the matter lying deep within the decorative outside.

It's too bad his core isn't quite so beautiful. He sometimes feels like he's rotting away inside. He keeps the mask of indifference on, but inside he's dying little by little. No one sees it. No one _bothers_ to see it, really. No different from their home back in the Enchanted Forest where he haunted his lonely castle and made his nefarious deals and plans to reunite with the son who probably never wants to see him again.

"It's an egg," he finally says with a small flare of his hand.

She narrows her eyes at him. "But why…"

"You'll see…soon enough." She sighs and he fears that, once again, he's losing her. So he does something he never quite expected to do. "Come with me," he says and holds out a hand.

She doesn't take it, not right away at least. "Where are we going?"

"I want to show you someplace special." He moves his hand closer to her and she looks down at it. "It involves the egg."

Finally she nods and takes his hand. It's a step at least. His fingers close around hers and he's all too aware that this may be the end for them. The curse will break…and soon. He can feel it in the air. Emma Swan will save her son and with that, save them all. She doesn't understand. She can't. But she will soon.

And Belle will wake up, pushing Lily French to the side. He hopes she'll at least look _somewhat_ fondly on him. He did, after all, rescue her from the abuses her father inflicted upon her due to the curse. It was something at least, though he knows she'll walk away from him once she remembers.

He almost left her behind for this errand, coward that he is. Leaving her behind means she can slip out of his life quietly, collect her things and go back to her father. She can find her own way and she doesn't have to do it while facing him. But he's even more a coward than he thought he was, so he takes her with him. He will have his one last moment with her when she _knows_ who he is.

They set out in his car. It's not a long drive to the trailhead, but if he's going to trudge through the woods with his damaged ankle, the less walking to get there the better. She's silent in the car on the ride there, contemplative. He likes to pretend it's a companionable silence but he knows otherwise. She is curious, but waiting. He is filled with dread, can feel it curling around in his belly and wrapping around his throat.

He'll lose her. He'll gain his son, he hopes. But he'll lose Belle. He's not sure that's really a fair trade-off and he's greedy. He wants them both.

She gets out with him and sees the path immediately. "There?" she asks. She's not much for words in this world. The Belle of the old days would be chattering constantly, asking questions, curious about the world around her. She would set off on the path without a second glance.

"Yes," he says, ever indulgent of this odd and quiet persona of hers. "There."

She says nothing else and he finds himself disappointed. They set off together, his steps faltering on the uneven terrain, hers surprisingly sure despite the heels she's wearing. He really should have told her to change them, find something more appropriate for walking in the woods. But he didn't. And so here they are, quite the odd couple following the path deep into the woods.

There's a hush there, almost as if the animals know something momentous is about to happen, as if they're all holding their breath and waiting for the inevitable, for the explosion of happiness and hatred that the curse-breaking will bring about. He leads her down the path. He hasn't been here, not once since coming to this world. But he knows it's there. He can _feel_ it. The magic in his body may be muted, but he knows the call of the magic. He can follow it like a bloodhound on a trail, even this many years later.

_Twenty-eight_, his minds whispers at him. Twenty-eight years and thensome. Over eight months that he's lived with two sets of memories and the reminders of the horrors he had committed over the long years before the curse.

He steps out in front of her as they near the well. He cannot stop himself. It's not easy walking, but they're _so close_ and the curse will break _so soon_ and he can almost feel the power racing across his skin, the high from the magic that resides deep within him.

"Wait," she says from somewhere behind him and he doesn't stop. He can't. _So close_…so close he can feel it, taste it. There's only one thing left to do now.

"No, no…we're almost there." He turns and looks at her for a moment, small smile crossing his face. He turns away again.

"Rumplestiltskin." His name. _His name_. He stops. He doesn't dare move forward. He doesn't dare turn around. It's like the oxygen has been sucked out of the very air around him and he's left reeling.

The curse has broken.

She remembers.

And he is utterly terrified.

"Wait," she says again and he finally turns to face her, pivoting on his good leg and coming to lean heavily on the cane he has needed to rely on for the entirety of the curse. She's closer now than before and stepping closer all the time and he's afraid to meet her eyes for fear of what he'll find there.

But he can tell by the way she moves, by the way she stands just slightly straighter. Lily French is being chased away and shining in her place is _Belle_. Belle, who he thought was dead for a great many years. Belle, who he thought he would never see again. _Belle_.

He waits for her admonishment. He waits for everything to come crashing down around him.

"I love you," she says and he feels his heart stop for just a moment.

"Belle?" he asks. Because he has to make sure. He has to _know_. Those words from Lily's mouth would be bittersweet. Real and yet not real. Those words from Belle's mouth?

"Yes." Her face lights up with the words and suddenly her hands are grasping his.

"Belle." Her name comes out on a broken whisper.

"I love you," she reiterates. This time his eyes meet hers as she says the words and he can see the tears shining there. He can feel his own pricking at the corner of his eyes, just waiting to fall down his cheeks. He blinks hard.

"Yes." He whispers the word and releases her hand to draw her into his arms, to hold her tight against him. "I love you too." He says the words into her hair, hair that is even now dampening with a few leaked tears.

She lets out a slight choked sound and holds him tight. For a moment, just a moment, all is right in the world. And then he remembers.

He pulls back from her and cradles her face in the palm of his hand. She's so close, her eyes bright. But she also remembers. "The egg," she murmurs and he nods. "What is it?"

He takes a deep breath. He knows he can show her now. She understands magic, knows it exists, though she may still not quite realize where she is. Nor _why_ she is there. He retrieves the key from his pocket and slides it into the center of the egg, cracking it open as he does so.

"Magic." She says the word on a breathy sigh. "You have magic here."

"Not yet," he says and there's a bit of pride in his voice. "Come," he says and holds out his hand. She clings to him as they walk deeper into the woods, following the path that finally leads them to the well.

"What is this?" she asks as he draws her up to the side of it. She places her hands on the lip, looks down into the depths. She's a tiny thing, teeters on the edge of it and he reaches out without thinking to grasp her about the waist, hold her steady.

"This is what's left of Lake Nostos."

Her eyes widen as she looks back at him. "The mystical lake that is supposed to return that which was lost?"

He cannot help the small smile that creeps across his face. "You _would_ know that."

She pushes lightly on his shoulder and he is suddenly reminded of their time in the Dark Castle. "You know I like to read."

"Of course." This is said with an indulgent smile. He still remembers the burned meals, the forgotten tea, the laundry left crumpled in the basket because she forgot to hang it up. He would never quite forget going to a deal with his favorite silk shirt a wrinkled mess from the latter. He had ended up taking whatever junk they had offered just to make sure they didn't spread word of his showing up looking like that.

And Belle hadn't even paid for it.

"So you're bringing back…"

"Magic."

Her brow wrinkles and there's a look in her eyes at that moment, a disturbing, very worried look. "Why?" Her voice is flat as she asks the question and he feels a shudder rip through him. He knows he has really only one choice at that moment. So far Belle has not left him. Even the threat of bringing back magic has not made her leave his side…not yet at least.

"My son," he says and even speaking those words leaves him feeling rung out.

"The one you lost."

"The one I never told you the story about," he adds. He hasn't forgotten. It's just that it's painful and reliving it is not something he's ever wanted to do. Even though he knows he must. Belle deserves that much. "I never did complete that deal, did I?"

"You didn't." There's a sad smile on her face for a moment.

"Soon," he promises. She nods.

"And so…magic will help you find him?"

He reaches over, wraps an arm around her. "He's here somewhere, Belle. Somewhere in this strange world. And magic alone can find him." He holds up the potion, watches as the strands of hair made from the strongest of true love twine about each other, watches the purple mist swirl in lazy patterns within the glass.

"Do it," she says and he can feel his heart hammer within his chest.

"Are you…"

"Sure? Yes." She touches his arm lightly. "If this is the only way…"

"It is," he assures her. He must be able to leave the town. He must be able to locate his son. The world is large and it could take him lifetimes to find him without it.

"Then do it."

He leans forward, holds the potion over the well and pauses there for just a moment before taking a deep breath and releasing it. He doesn't know how the magic will interact with this world, doesn't know _what_ will happen. Only that something will.

Nothing happens for a moment and together they lean over the well, stare into the dark abyss. And then the purple mist rises, expanding as it flows upward and out of the well. They step back almost as one and he realizes he'd forgotten how in tune they could be, the way they moved together, finished each other's sentences, as if they'd simply always been meant to be.

The magic swirls around them and he can _feel_ it, singing across his skin, sinking deep into his veins. He closes his eyes, breathes it in, and when he opens them again his perception of the world has altered. Everything is brighter, more in focus. He can see the threads connecting them all, the greens and browns of the woods and the golden thread that connects him to the woman at his side. It's further proof of the trueness of their love, as if the near breaking of his curse hadn't been enough to convince him.

The mist clears and they're left standing together, alone in a whole new world of possibilities. He turns to her, meets her eyes and finds himself mesmerized. "My darling Belle." His voice is soft and he brings a hand up to cup her face.

"My Rumple," she whispers back and puts her hand over his. And she smiles. _Smiles_. He's about to find his son and he has his true love and he doesn't even know what to do with himself because the world is perfect and Rumplestiltskin doesn't _get_ perfect.

"Yours, yes."

"Rumple," she whispers and leans in close to him. He wraps his arms around her, pulls her in tight. "Tonight?"

He feels a laugh bubble up inside him. He knows this happiness is probably tenuous at best, but he'll take it for now. "Tonight," he echoes and as their lips touch, as Rumplestiltskin finally kisses Belle, they disappear in a swirl of magic.


End file.
